


Part IV: Adultery

by WildcatPacer



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9897767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildcatPacer/pseuds/WildcatPacer
Summary: This is the final part of my much larger story on my FanFiction site, called Seam Girl's Saga. This part depicts a married Katniss Everdeen embarking on an extramarital affair.





	1. Chapter 1

**Part IV: Adultery**

**Chapter 20: Fight**

 

**Another Six Years Later**

"Thank you so much! Please come again soon!" The last customer exits out the front door. As the clock strikes 5 PM, I change the sign in the window from OPEN to CLOSED and lean against a nearby table in exhaustion. What a day! Three cake orders had their deadlines today, and at least ten plates worth of cheese buns were sold. 

I straighten. Things were so busy today, I wonder where my husband went, after all that? I haven't seen him since lunch hours. I decide to check the back store room. 

That is where I find him, in the corner that once served as his mother's accounting office and is now his. Peeta is bent over the desk, his reading glasses pushed down to the bridge of his nose, recording in the ledger book. I slip behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, kissing his neck. 

"Hey," I whisper. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah," Peeta sighs. "Just putting in these last payments for when our taxes are due."

I glance over his shoulder, my eyes flitting to the most recently filled out line. My brow narrows. 

"That isn't right," I say. I am sure of it, even after only seeing the data once. I am a pretty good editor, especially when it comes to numbers. Too many years trading for the best prices in the Hob, I guess. 

"Hmmm? What are you talking about?" Peeta asks absentmindedly. 

"That," I point. "Your entry for our last shipment of sourdough reads at $135.99. It should be $147.50."

Peeta checks where I indicate. "No, I'm pretty sure I had it down as....."

"Uh-uh. You're thinking of the one last week. This week's was for $147.50; I distinctly remember Rye telling me....."

"Katniss, does it really matter?" Peeta throws down the pen and rubs at his eyes. I should notice that he is obviously getting tired, but so am I, so I lash out. 

"IT DOES, PEETA! If we're off by even a few dollars, or don't remember which shipment cost what, the Peacekeepers could write us up on tax fraud! Even if it is an innocent mistake!"

"So, what do you want me to do about it now, huh?" Peeta asks. 

"Just _fix it_! It only takes a second!"

"I'll re-check it in the morning, Katniss! I'm tired!"

"WELL, SO AM I!"

"Why are you yelling at me?!" Peeta demands. 

"I'M NOT YELLING AT YOU!" I very clearly yell. 

"SURE SOUNDS LIKE IT!" my husband snaps. 

I scowl. I refuse to go in this round-and-round, back-and-forth, with him. "I need to go hunting. I couldn't get out this morning, anyway." I storm out of the back room, and retrieve my father's hunting jacket, as well as my bow and arrows. I don't even kiss my husband goodbye. 

* * *

Hunting beyond the fence allows me to blow off some steam. By the time I bag two or three birds and a few squirrels, I am significantly less angry than I was leaving the District. I shouldn't have been so nitpick with Peeta. He's doing his best. Besides, his mother was the real financial knack in the family, and Peeta always struggled in math when we were in school. I resolve to go back to the bakery immediately and apologize, kiss and make-up, with my husband before dinner. 

But first, I have to trade some of this game. 

I now enter the Hob with my wares. At 6:00 PM rush-hour like it is today, the black market is at one of its busiest times. Good. More chances that I will make a trade. I make a beeline for Greasy Sae's stall, and manage to haggle five coins from her in exchange for some fresh squirrel. I am just gathering my game bag when a familiar crop of red hair approaches the table.

"Well, if it isn't the lovely Mrs. Mellark!"

Despite the white-plated uniform that clashes with the new arrival's hair, I have to smile. Darius is friendly, lenient - something that you surely cannot say about other Peacekeepers. _Any_ other Peacekeeper.

"Hello, Darius."

"And what wonders might you have brought us all today?" He pokes through the bag before I can stop him, though I am not worried. But then he frowns. "Katniss…. did you get this from beyond the fence?"

I nod, confused as to why he is so concerned. It is a well-known secret within the Seam that I poach in the woods beyond the district. Even Darius knows. He has never told any of his superiors about my law-breaking, something I have to respect him for.

Darius sighs. "It's just that someone might see the amount you brought and suspect something. And if I don't say anything…."

Oh no. I understand what he means. Darius can be lenient, but not _that_ lenient. Now and again he has to demonstrate to Cray and his other commanders that he can be firm, just to show that he has done his duty. Even if he does not like it.

"Please don't tell, Darius," I whisper. "There are leftovers in there for Mother and Prim. They can't feed themselves if I am thrown in the stocks."

Darius considers this, his expression unreadable. Then he cracks a small smile. "You know," he whispers conspiratorially to me, "If I just slip some of this into our stores at the Justice Building, Cray probably won't notice."

My eyes fill with tears. I owe him. Big time. It is one of the things I hate and yet abide by rigidly, the concept of owing someone.

"Except I haven't any money," Darius confesses.

"That won't be necessary, Darius. I'll find some other way to pay you back, I promise! I owe you: big time!" I say as I rush out of the Hob. 

Isn't it funny, how promises can so easily entrap you like a snare?


	2. Chapter 21: New Year's Fair Trade

**Chapter 21: New Year's Fair Trade**  

The snow flurries get into my eyes as I hustle into the Hob a few days later. It is the day of New Year's Eve, and the weather forecasts from the Capitol promised a blizzard to ring in the new calendar year. If I hurry, maybe I can still get home in time for my kids to wake up and feed them breakfast. Thank God the bakery is closed during the holidays!

As I finish my dealings, I run into Darius again. I almost crash into him, in fact, and he steadies me with a laugh. 

"You in a hurry, I take it?"

"Sorry, Darius," I apologize with a smile. "Peeta and the kids have been running me ragged lately, and I have to back to cook them breakfast when they get up. Oh!" I turn around with an afterthought after rushing past him. "And I still need to find a way to pay you back for that game from a few days ago."

Darius seems surprised and pleased that I even remembered that. "How about this? The New Year's Eve Party is happening here tonight. Why don't you come; give yourself a break? Heck, find a babysitter and bring Peeta with you! Make it a date night!"

I think about it. I sure could use a break. And though I have already apologized to Peeta for our spousal spat from a few days ago, taking him out on a date might be just what I need to really make it up to him. 

"All right," I smile. "I'll check with Peeta as soon as I get home!"

* * *

However, that night I enter the New Year's Eve party alone. Peeta was really tempted to come, but said he could not ask either of his brothers to babysit on such short notice. Besides, he is busy at work on a cake to celebrate his dad's birthday, which is coming up next week. 

I enter the Hob wearing a nice red dress - another hand-me-down from my mother's Merchant days. Almost immediately, I spy some familiar faces over at one table. 

"Hey, Catnip!" Gale calls. 

"Hello, Katniss!" Darius echoes, standing up. I give both men a hug. "Where's Peeta?"

"Oh, he was tempted, believe me, but he couldn't find a babysitter for the kids, and there's a really big cake order due!"

"Cake order? For when? It's the middle of the holidays!" Darius goggles. "Never mind. Would you like to dance?"

I'm a little taken aback, but touched too, and accept. Darius and I join the other dancing pairs in the crowd. We waltz, before the music gets progressively faster and soon we are doing every dance from the polka to the samba. We finish with a traditional District 12 folk dance. 

By the time we run off the dance floor, we are sweaty and laughing. We meet up with Gale at the bar, where he produces two glasses of beer. 

"On the house!"

Darius and I quickly polish off that first round. Then another. And another. By late into the evening, we are pretty inebriated. 

After Darius buys me an unsolicited drink – my fourth overall, he ponders "Now what might be a fair trade for a free shot of whiskey?"

I shake my head with a smile. "I can't even imagine."

"How about a kiss?" He leans in close to me and grins. "Tis the season, after all; I bet there are still sprigs of mistletoe hanging about."

I let out a bark of laughter and playfully shove him away. "No, thanks."

"Why not? I tell you, Katniss, my kisses are the most sought-after in the District!"

This gets my attention and I smirk. "Oh yeah? With who?"

Darius points out women to me. "Why, the flower seller with the green muffler. Oh, and the milkman's wife! I have plenty of references in these parts."

Gale begins to hoot with laughter as he rises and pays for his drink. "Keep talking, Darius! You'll never get a peck outta her! Besides, she's a married woman!" And he heads off to dance with his wife, Leevy.

Darius lays off after a while, and I leave the bar and slip just outside to be by myself. Gazing up into the night sky, I can see the stars twinkling.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Darius has joined me. I simply nod. Just then, I hear the crowd begin to roar the countdown:

"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!" There is loud cheering, and soon couples fall into each other's arms and kiss, as is tradition. In one corner, I can see Gale kiss a delighted Leevy.

It is a tradition to share a kiss with someone when the clock strikes midnight. I don't have anybody. And neither does Darius. We turn to each other at the same moment. 

"Come here, you," I drunkenly slur. I grab at his jacket and try to pull him towards me, but stumble. Darius catches me around the waist, his arms tightening about me as he pulls me closer and into his arms. 

Our faces our inches apart now. My breath catches. My eyes slower flutter until they droop half-closed. I can feel Darius's breath on my face just before he -

Darius kisses me. Full on the lips. My eyes close completely, and forgetting where I am or even whose lips I am engaging, I enthusiastically kiss him back. Darius tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, seeking entrance. 

"Mmmmmmmm........." I moan loudly into his mouth, and I part my lips for him. Immediately his tongue fires in between the split and intertwines with my own, drawing it into his own mouth. Our tongues battle for dominance. The kiss becomes more sensual, deepens, until it is hard to tell whose mouth is whose. It is as if our lips are fused together. 

I drape my arms around Darius's neck, my fingers burying into his fiery red locks, playing with the strands of his hair. His hands press further into the small of my back, the digits dancing along the base of my spine possessively. 

Somewhere far, far away, fireworks whizz and explode with a piercing WHEESH into the nighttime sky above the Hob. At long last, we break apart. Darius looks in awe as well as ecstatic. 

"Happy New Year," he expresses. 

I nod. "Happy New Year," I echo quietly. 


	3. Chapter 22: Venison Tension

**Chapter 22: Venison Tension**

I don't remember my kiss with Darius until I wake up in my husband's bed with a hangover the next morning. I am thoroughly embarrassed, of course. I decide to just try and forget about the kiss, chalking it up to something born out of a coerced tradition, and that we both clearly had too much to drink.

* * *

It's another week or so before I see Darius again. This time, it's in the woods. I stumble upon him literally struggling how to hold a crudely crafted bow as he fits a even more-crudely crafted arrow to it. When he accidentally lets go of the string and shoots a hole in his pack, I cannot help but laugh. I keep the smile on my face as I saunter over to him.

"Having trouble?"

Darius glances back and shoots me an optimistic grimace. "Oh, I'll get it right. But it may take a while."

I pace around him to get a good look at his bow. It's of average make, really, though clearly homemade. Still, I feel the need to inquire, "Did you make this?"

He grins sheepishly. "Horrible, isn't it? I didn't know what else to do. The fish have barely been biting, and I certainly couldn't afford a professional bow in town."

I shake my head. "It's not horrible. For a novice, it's actually a great first effort. It took my father _years_ to perfect his bow-crafting technique."

Darius tries to lift the bow and straighten it. "You learned all your mad skills from him then, huh?"

I would answer him, if I didn't see how terribly off his stance is. The teacher in me prompts, "Feet shoulder-width apart."

Darius glances at me and obeys. "Now straighten that back." When he doesn't catch my meaning, I press my hand into the small of his back. I feel his skin tingle where my hand rests. I quickly move on.

"Tighten you stomach muscles. The most important thing a hunter needs to control is breathing." I have no choice but to demonstrate as I place my hands on either side of his diaphragm. I feel awkward. I've never been in physical contact like this with anyone other than Peeta. Unless you count John or that Drury fellow, which I most definitely do not. And besides, when I taught Peeta how to hunt, it wasn't awkward in the least, because we were already married. I focus on the man in front of me, trying to keep my voice and body language as casual as possible.

"Relax your shoulders and bring your bow arm down. Your body should be entirely streamlined." This time, Darius needs no prompting from me. I check his bow hand.

"Grip is actually good. Now, breathe in deeply, and release the arrow on the exhale," I tell him.

WHOOSH! The arrow flies and hits a tree dead-on. I smile at Darius.

"Very good! Even Peeta's first shot wasn't as good as that." Besides the fact that this statement is true, I find myself sincere in my approval.

However, my voice trails off when I realize how close his face is to mine.

Darius smiles back, his voice soft. "So, who's your better pupil: the baker's son or the poor Peacekeeper?"

My breathing becomes ragged. My heart is pounding in my chest; I can hear it beating in my ears. "You....." I whisper, even though I completely forget what he asked me. I barely register how my arms have wrapped themselves around his waist from behind. Darius's face inches closer. My eyes flutter, drooping until they are almost shut. My brain is screaming at me a reminder that I'm a married woman, and that we should stop now before..... we..... kiss..... again.....

Before our lips can touch, I tear myself away. The spell is broken, and I awkwardly clear my throat. 

"It's late. I..... I have to go. I better go!" Without even bidding him goodbye, I gather my game bag and turn tail for the fence and my home beyond. For the first time in my hunting career, I return home empty-handed. Peeta does not seem bothered by my explanation that I could not take down any game; this winter has been harsher than normal. 

His non-concern does not keep my turbulent emotions of confusion and fright at bay.


	4. Chapter 23: Passionate Affair

**Chapter 23: Passionate Affair**  

My feelings for Darius only grow more murky and confused over the next several days following our encounter in the woods. Even just thinking about or picturing the handsome Peacekeeper can send my heart into a total tap dance, make my palms sweaty, and induce shortness of breath. 

Somewhere deep down inside of my soul, I know what I am feeling for this man was wrong. I know because I have acted on these feelings before. My previous tryst with Drury might have been impulsive, fueled by a jilted rage. And my rape at the hands of John might have been forced, never wanted in the first place. These were still moments of unfaithfulness - and they had only produced pain in the long run. Yet my traitorous heart always beats back these rational warnings when it comes to Darius. 

I begin to obsess over what I might say if I see Darius again. The side of me grounded in reality begins to compose words of rejection - words explaining how I am already married and it would be unethical to venture into a relationship. 

Of course, I will have no control over when these words will be uttered. 

One morning, Peeta is out on an errand, picking up a new shipment of bread. Our kids have just been put down for their naps, and the rest of my family has gone home early for the day, closing up the shop due to a slow influx of customers. I am alone. 

Suddenly, the phone rings. I pick it up before the first ring is through, so as not to wake the kids. 

"Hello?"

"Hi, Katniss. It's Darius."

My heart begins to pound furiously. For a moment, the monologue I have been carefully preparing to end this..... whatever-it-is before it starts appears in my brain, only to then vanish, like a computer screen going blank. 

"Hi. What's up?" My response nearly comes out in a croak. 

"I was wondering if you had a free minute to meet me at the Peacekeeper barracks."

The last time I had been to that place was to see John and ask his advice over what should be done about our baby. A part of me is suspicious of going over there, especially since Darius has not given me any details. 

But another part of me - an excited part - urges me on. After a brief internal struggle between suspicious and excited, excited wins. Darius has suggested it will only take a minute. And even if it doesn't, the kids are safe, asleep in their beds. Peeta will be back soon. Besides, this isn't a date. 

"I'll be right over."

I leave a note down on the front counter, that simply says I have stepped outside for a bit and will be back soon. I then steal down the back alley of the bakery, and make my way down to the Peacekeeper barracks. Darius is waiting for me outside. 

"There's something I want to show you," he smiles when he sees me. 

Curious, I follow him down into the barracks. We enter the hallway lined with doors that I vaguely remember from when I visited John, before walking through it and heading down a stairwell. We must be heading underground, but what would Darius have to show me here?

At last, we come to a gate. Darius produces a key and unlocks it, before then opening the door right behind this gate. He flicks on the lights once we are inside. 

We are in a small locker room. On cubbies lining the walls, there are bulky suits that look like the ones worn by astronauts of old in space; I remember reading about them in school. Darius hands me one that looks my size. 

"Put this on. You can wear it over your clothes. It's for your protection."

I find myself smiling at him, amused, before doing as he says. Darius also dons a suit. 

"Ready?" he asks. His voice comes through in an artificial, echoey way from the helmet on his head. I nod through my helmet. 

Opening the door on the other side of the locker room, he and I enter a metallic world. The room is long and vertical - it could probably fit several Seam homes comfortably inside. At the far end are what clearly look like targets. I look to my right and see automatic weapons and guns lined up on a rack. 

This is a shooting range. 

"I thought I'd show you where I usually perform target practice, and what I normally shoot with," Darius grins at my amazed reaction. 

I turn to him with a smirk, amused. "Aren't only Peacekeepers allowed to use guns?"

"Well, since you are so proficient with bows, I think we can make an exception in your case," Darius waves away, handing me a semi-automatic. "I trust you."

For the next hour or so, Darius and I practice our shooting skills. He's right, of course - guns are not all that different from bows and arrows. As we fire round after round, we get to talking. 

"How's the bakery?" Darius asks at one point. 

I sigh as I let another bullet fly. "It could be a lot better." I don't know what power this man holds over me that makes me open up, but I do. "Peeta and I have been..... struggling with our finances lately. Sales have been down from what they used to be, and taxes are only going up, year after year. Keeping the business open and sending the kids to school has made money tight."

Darius is staring at me, a concerned and sympathetic look on his face. After a moment of silence, he makes the most stunning offer:

"I don't know how much it would help, but I can always give you a cut of my salary monthly. If it would help pay the bills."

I hate owing people, which is why I almost always refuse acts of charity, out of guardedness and pride. But what Darius is offering to do - a Capitol official setting aside money for a citizen of his District! - is astonishing. My heart bursting with emotion from his generosity, I turn to him with an incredulous stare, even as I accept the donation. "Thank you," I whisper. 

Darius smiles. 

We are still smiling when we get back into the locker room, laughing as we take off our helmets. Our eyes meet. A pause. And then, with no words, we move to close the gap between us. With a bump, the rest of our bulky space suits both mercifully and yet maddeningly get in our way. We laugh awkwardly. Our suits keep brushing up against each other. As we try to close the gap again. And again. 

By now, I have thrown all caution to the wind. Darius's offer is so overwhelming, that I just have to. 

"Uh...... uh......" Breathing hard with the effort to reach him, I at last seize the neck seal of his helmet and pull his face to mine, fiercely pressing my lips to his at last. "Mmmmmmm......... Mmmmmmmmm........" We kiss with our mouth wide open, with heated tongue. 

Minutes later, we have shedded the rest of our space-like suits and left them in heaps in the locker room. Up in Darius's dimly lit room in the barracks, I back him up towards his bed. Seductively, I slip of my black shirt and let it fall away, revealing my bare back. I grab at Darius's clothes and undress him, our bodies undulating towards each other in anticipation, like two animals impatient to become engaged in heat. I capture his lips with mine, my arms draping lazily around his neck, and we fall back onto the mattress. Fingers framing his face as I passionately kiss him, I let this man take me to bed. We begin to make love. 

Later that night, the barracks cafeteria is deserted, as Darius and I sneak in to grab a midnight snack. Everyone else has gone to bed. Sitting directly across from me, Darius observes barely above a whisper, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. You kill me."

My eyes lazily meet his. There's a silent challenge, a dare, in his eyes, and I decide to accept it. Dropping the piece of chicken I'm holding, I then deliberately push my tray of food aside, so hard that it skirts off the edge of the table and onto the floor with a CRASH. A crash I do not hear as I climb onto the table, and slink - on my hands and knees - like a cat to the man across from me. Darius leans back in his chair, surprised and impressed, before I seize him by the scruff of his neck, and pull his lips into a desperate kiss. 

I slip off of the table and into his lap, straddling his hips. Briefly breaking our kiss as I get into position, I wrap my arms around the handsome Peacekeeper and kiss him again. Darius stands, taking me with him as his hands that are firmly about my waist, slink up underneath the fabric of my shirt. I do not have time to fold my legs around his torso before he is leaning me, laying me back onto the table with a small clatter. My one hand heavily caresses up and down his strong back while my other hand plays at the nape of his neck. I open my mouth wide to him, and he kisses me sensually, his tongue invading my maw as I make quick work of divesting him of his shirt. Helping him pull it over his head and cast it aside, and seizing each new reveal of his bare skin as I do so, I let Darius settle between my spread-eagled legs. We have sex once more, right on that table. 

Still later, Darius has carried my naked form back up to his bed. Our naked bodies, sweating after making love yet again, lie pressed together. My one leg is draped over his, peeking out from amongst the blankets. I am partially on top of him, my hand resting on his chest, my head nestled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Darius's fingers absentmindedly dance in my hair. 

"You OK?" he murmurs. 

"Yeah," I sigh breathlessly with a nod. "I'm fine. It's just....." I cannot even find the thoughts behind the words which I want to express, my one hand reaching out in thin air as if I could pluck the words from such an expanse. I give up. 

"Yeah, I know," Darius sighs. 

I get home that night very late. When I see that Peeta has waited up for me, I remember what I just willingly violated between us and feel the shame wash over me all over again. I manage to get out a lie that I fell asleep in the woods while hunting and simply lost track of time. He accepts it, and kisses me once. It is a kiss I happily return, before he head up to our bed. 

I lie facing away from him the whole night. 

* * *

The very next morning, I get a text on my cell phone from an unfamiliar number. MEET ME IN THE WOODS IN TEN, it reds cryptically. 

I instinctively, intuitively, know it's from Darius. I spring out of bed and dress. I have to face him. I have to tell him today, end this today. What happened last night may have felt good physically, but it was still wrong. 

I find Darius deep in the woods, by the lake and my father's old hunting cabin. 

"Hi," I greet him, and I let him hug me. "It's good to see you."

"You as well," he smiles. 

I glance at the lake around us, the trees and clearing which are glistening in the early morning sun. "It's such a beautiful day."

"Yes." Darius hands suddenly go about my waist, and I fearfully grip at his arms for only a moment to steady myself. His one hand brushes at my cheek in an intimate way. 

"What are you doing?"

"I can't take it anymore!" Darius hisses, and now gripping me by my neck, he fiercely kisses me on the lips before I can stop him.

"Mmmmmm! Mmmmmmm!" My cries of protest are muffled and my eyes widen. I try pushing against his arms to get him to let me go. Now I really _have_ to tell him. "No. Darius, I'm married." Yet the reminder of my reality - our reality - sounds regretful, almost sad, even to my own ears. Unfortunately, this only encourages the man who wishes to be my paramour. 

"Did you like that?" He kisses me again. 

"Mmmmm......" I twist my head from side to side, finally breaking the connection of our lips. "No, please! I'm married!"

Darius is undeterred. He merely plants kisses along my face, before bringing my lips back to his. 

"No......mmmmmm......No......." I try to say more forcefully, even if the words are half-buried into Darius's mouth. I push at his arms again. "Stop..... stop......" But my voice is growing weaker by the second, now coming out in almost a whisper. 

Darius kisses me once more. As he does, his left hand wanders. He heavily - intimately - caresses and pets my butt. 

"No..... No!! Mmmmmmm!!!! Mmmmmmm!!!!!" I begin to panic against his lips, pushing at him - at his face - more desperately, even as our lips flow together jarringly.

Darius gallingly raises my one leg to his waist, cupping my thigh in his strong hand. 

And that's when it is as if a switch has flicked in my brain, prompting me to participate in, rather than resist, my own seduction. 

"Mmmmmm??? Mmmmmmmmm........." My moans of protest turn into moans of pleasure and my one arm hooks around Darius's neck at my elbow as I at last begin to kiss him back. My hands play in his hair. 

Triumphant, Darius dips me back and my sudden loss of footing elicits a terrified squeak against his mouth. We land in the grass, rolling around in each other's embrace, our lips smacking against each other furiously. Our hands go everywhere, cupping at each other's faces. Darius's lips finally roam all over my face, and I relish in the sensation of his touch, my eyes closed, my puffy lips emitting tiny sighs. 

At last, we break apart for good and gaze at each other. Laughing, we share a chaste kiss with a smile. I surrender. I am his now. I will allow him to be my lover. 

Moments later, we are naked in the water, luxuriating under a natural waterfall. I arch my body into Darius's form behind me as he plants feathery kisses on my neck and shoulders. Next second, we are making it out feverishly - with tongue, like normal. At last, Darius swings me around in front of him before sinking under the water. Next moment, I feel his mouth sink into my folds, his lips gnawing away at my clit and at my womanhood. 

"Uhhhhh...... Uhhhhhhh......." I groan with pleasure, throwing my head and letting my eyes roll up into the back of my head. 

I lose count of how many times I orgasm.


	5. Chapter 24: Whole Truth Revealed

**Chapter 24: Whole Truth Revealed**  

I struggle to carry the stack of boxes through the front door of the bakery. My mother and sister follow close behind with other packages in their arms. 

My mother has finally retired from her Healing practice. Though it is a great loss for the Seam, and frankly the whole of District 12, I know Prim will make an excellent successor. Such a change in management finally convinced my mother to move into the bakery with me, Peeta and the kids.

"Peeta, honey, we're home!" I call. 

"There are the loveliest ladies in Twelve!" Peeta chuckles, planting a kiss on my lips in greeting that I tenderly return. "Lillian, how are you?"

"Where do you want this, Mother?" I ask, pausing on the stair landing as I turn back to her. 

"Oh, just take it up to the spare room, dear; I'll unpack later."

I take the box up to the room we have already set aside as my mother's room. It will do for now; as my mother ages and stairs are no longer an option, we will likely turn the storage room/office downstairs into her quarters. 

I set the box down with a THUMP. Wanting to help ease the work for my mother as much as possible, I begin to go through it and ponder what should go where. There are some old picture frames: one shows my parents on their wedding day, another the day I was born. A third captures a more somber occasion - the day my family accepted a posthumous medal on behalf of my father after the mining accident. 

Setting this latest frame aside, I see a small file folder underneath it labeled GIRLS' BIRTH CERTIFICATES across the front in large letters. Smiling sentimentally, I open it and pull mine out. 

There's my name: Katniss Sierra Everdeen. My height, weight and time of birth are all listed underneath. Then my parents are listed. Mother: Lillian Foley Everdeen. Father:.......

 _Haymitch Abernathy_?!

I rise, my breath coming out of me in choked gasps. I feel as though I'm drowning. This can't be right; that can't be true. The room is spinning, with only three words flashing in my head like a neon sign:

_Father: Haymitch Abernathy, Father: Haymitch Abernathy, Father: Haymitch Abernathy......._

I cry out, stumbling into a bedside table. The world as I heretofore knew it is gone. Estes Everdeen is somehow not my father. My father sits in the Victors' Village.... 

I jolt as I suddenly think of something. What of Primrose? Surely she is....

I scramble for the file folder and open it. There's her name: Primrose Foccaccia Everdeen. Height, weight, time of birth, our mother's name - that's all there. When I read the father's name, I crumble to the floor:

Father: Steffan Mellark. 

Now it makes sense. Foccaccia is the name of a bread we bake all the time in the bakery. Downstairs, I can hear the distant laughter of my in-laws as they arrive to welcome my mother. Does Primrose know that she is related to them not just through marriage, but by blood? That my father-in-law is her biological father? Wouldn't that mean..... Oh God......

"MOTHER!!!!!" I scream. I hear sudden footsteps pounding up the stairs, voices behind the door. 

"Peeta, go back down, dear, I'll handle this....." My mother bursts in. "Katniss, what's wrong......?" She stops short. 

I stand in the center of the room, the birth certificates in my hand. "This. What the hell _is_ all this? Can you explain to me why it says my father is.......?" I can't bare to speak his name before I break down in tears. Mother pulls me into her arms. I want to push her away, but I don't have to strength to. 

"This is something I should have told you long ago." We sit down on the edge of her bed and she begins: "After we got married, your father and I wanted desperately to have children. We tried and we tried for about five years without any success. I began to suspect something was wrong, but I was not about to point fingers. I suggested that we find donors to create you and your sister, but your father would not hear of it; he refused to believe there was anything wrong. After a while, though, he began to get it in his mind that he was infertile. It nearly tore him apart."

I gasp, unable to believe my ears. "So, you floated to him the idea that you _sleep_ with other men?"

"No, dear. There is another way to provide sperm. Injections of it into the mother's body are quite common, so the sperm can unify with an egg. But, for me..... that isn't what happened....."

"One night, your father went to the bar in the Hob and met up with Cotton Hawthorne, Gale's dad. He asked him if he would sleep with me in order to produce a child. So the story goes, Cotton refused at first, then said he would think about it."

"That same night, I had to make a delivery to Haymitch Abernathy in Victors' Village. I became very upset, and Haymitch guessed at what was wrong. Well, actually, he knew: he had overheard your father at the bar. We got drunk together, and I held him that night. Pretty soon, one thing led to another, and....." she chokes up. "I found out I was pregnant with you a few weeks later."

I want to throw up at the thought of my mother having sex with that old drunk. I sniffle. "Did.... did Daddy know?"

"Estes?" and I realize the identity of 'Daddy' is now confusing in conversation. "He knew. He knew you weren't biologically his. But he didn't know who your real father was. Or, at least, he thought he knew. Till the day he died, he believed that Cotton Hawthorne was your father."

"And the Hawthornes maintained that lie?" I ask. She nods.

I hiccup. "And Primrose..... Steffan is.......?"

My mother looks away in shame. "I seduced him one night in the Meadow. I never told Estes who her father was. In fact, for both of you, I had your birth certificates delivered to our house instead of at the Justice Building, and filled them out the Father lines after the fact. Estes never saw them. I didn't want to break his heart further."

I pause, digesting all I have just heard. "Should we tell the others?"

Mother takes a deep breath. "I guess now there is no choice. It's time. They have a right to know and your sister, especially."

We walk downstairs as though we are in the procession of a funeral march. My family is laughing and joking. They won't be for much longer. My mother calls for quiet. 

"There is something that I need to come clean about. I was going to take it to my grave, except now I, in good conscience, cannot......"

She retells the story she told me right from the beginning. When we get to the part about Primrose's origins, that's when all hell breaks loose. 

"You cheated on me!" Mrs. Mellark rounds on Steffan. "I knew she was a no good..... Ooooooohhhhhh..... you little BITCH!" She lunges at my mother.

"Hey. Hey!" Peeta roars, diving into the fray along with Leven. The two brothers keep the women apart. Primrose, meanwhile, is staring at the Baker as if she's never seen him before. 

"You're my father?" she draws closer to him, examining his face. She must recognize some of herself in him, for she suddenly bursts into tears and throws herself into his arms. 

Rye looks just as stunned as it dawns on him. "But that means..... you're our sister, Prim!"

"Half-sister," she corrects from over Steffan's shoulder. 

All at once, I hear stirring from my children's room upstairs. Great. Just great. Naptime is over. "Rye, go up there and keep them occupied!"

"Oh, but don't you want them to join our little family reunion?" Mrs. Mellark sneers. "Find out Mommy's little secret?"

I flip her the bird. "Rye....." I snarl. "Whatever you do, don't let them come downstairs!"

Rye dashes up the steps. 

Suddenly, there is a knock at the back door. Oh, who is it now? Peeta answers it - and once he does, I wish he hadn't. 

"Katniss, I....." Darius is standing on the back stoop, with a bouquet of roses in his hand. Peeta sees the flowers, and his eyes narrow dangerously. 

"Darius, can you explain why you are asking after my wife?"

Darius visibly gulps. No answer. 

"I'll ask you again: why are you here to see my wife?"

Darius suddenly bolts down the alley and out of sight. Peeta looks like he wants to go after him, but his father stops him. I bury my face in my hands. For her part, Mrs. Mellark starts cackling like the witch that she is. 

"What wonders never cease! Yet another affair in this family! Another slut! Like mother, like daughter!" she sneers at Mother and me. Then, she gets another thought: "But what do you expect, with an old drunk for a father, hmmmmm? I know some Peacekeepers who would just love to hear this story!"

"Paula, SHUT UP!" the roar comes from Steffan, and it must be the first time the Baker has ever stood up to his wife, for she stares at him in disbelief. "You drag Haymitch into this, you die at my hands. You understand me? I'll save the Peacekeepers the trouble - Lord knows you should have been shot by them long ago!"

I am not sure what the Baker means by this statement, though I wager child abuse probably has something to do with it. Paula splutters like a fish before closing her mouth. 

I turn away to see Peeta sending me a look of stone. He sighs heavily. "Any explanation at all?"

I hang my head. "No. No excuses, either."

"You're damn right _'No excuses, either,'_ " he hisses through clenched teeth. "Besides the fact that we are distant half-siblings, apparently. I think that counts as incest, wouldn't you say?"

I glance up, horrified and sickened. With Primrose's connection, I hadn't thought of that. "Distantly! You and I have two separate sets of parents....."

"Yeah, but Primrose is half sister to both of us; you two share the same mom, we share the same dad! Somehow..... I don't know how..... we're related. And now I discover you've been unfaithful! Katniss..... I want a divorce."

I burst into tears, even as I nod. Ruined. I have ruined everything! Everything I had! 

* * *

Peeta and I quietly sign the divorce application papers. I move my things out of the bakery, and take up residence in my mother's old house in the Seam. Mother and Prim offered to come with me, and Paula encouraged the idea, but Steffan would have none of it, citing Prim as family, and Lillian by extension. 

Prim. Thanks to the Mellark blood in her veins, she gets to stay, but I don't. Perhaps it's for the best. I've brought Peeta enough pain. 

A few weeks later, I begin to feel strange nausea, throwing up constantly. Oh no..... for a moment, I wonder if it's Peeta's, but that can't be; we have not had sex in a month or two, at least. Before the affair. That leaves.....

Darius. Once again, I have been impregnated by a Peacekeeper. Given the circumstances in which we came together, I feel sick. But what's done is done. Even if two people couple illicitly, God can still bless the union with a baby. The breaking of marital vows does not matter to Him. 

I take Darius into the woods one day. Sitting by my father's hunting cabin, I tell him that I am carrying his baby. His eyes fill with tears. He drops to one knee, and pulls out a ring. 

"Will you marry me?"

I pause, staring at the golden band. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve happiness after everything I've done. But our baby does. I can't just abort away my problem this time. Our baby deserves two parents. 

So I slip the ring on my finger and gently kiss Darius. "OK," I whisper quietly.

* * *

I stand on the stoop of the Victor's mansion for a good five minutes. For the second time in my life, I am clothed in my mother's wedding dress. _My_ wedding dress. My marriage to Darius will occur late that afternoon. This morning, however, I some last business to attend to.....

Gathering the last of my courage, I knock. After a moment, _he_ answers the door. His hair is a mess, but otherwise he is clothed decently - ripped jeans, and a burgundy puffer coat.  

I stare at him for a moment. Once again, I try to wrap my head around the fact that Haymitch Abernathy - Victor of the 50th Hunger Games, the only living Victor from District 12, the richest man in Twelve, and the biggest drunk I've ever known - is my father. 

"I know who you are. And more importantly, you know who _I_ am. Don't you?"

Haymitch stares at me, taking in my wedding dress. Finally, he stands aside. "I wondered if this day would ever come."

I step inside. His mansion is still as messy as ever - bottles littering the floor, the one trash bin in the kitchen overflowing. 

"It's true, you know. I am...... I am your father."

I turn back to face him, to stare at him. Hearing his admittance makes me realize - and it hits me hard - what a bad father he's been. "Some father," I lash out at him. "Prim and I nearly starved to death when our dad was killed in the mines."

Haymitch hangs his head in shame. "I was drinking a lot at that time. I always wanted to do more to help. The best I could manage was to leave a basket of food by your door. You were still little - maybe twelve."

I actually remember that. Someone had left a basket of fruit and breads and cheeses in the middle of the night one autumn. I had always wondered who it was. "That was you?"

He nods heavily. "Katniss, you have to understand I could not do anything more beyond that. It would have looked suspicious to the Peacekeepers that a Victor was favoring a dead miner's family. I may have never been there, but _everything_ I _ever_ did was to protect _you_." I glance up when I hear the intensity in his last phrase, and am floored to see tears streaming down his face. " At a certain point, I was always ready to face the consequences - to protect what was left of my family. I lost my whole family after I came home from the Games, Katniss. My mother. My brother. My girl. When your mom came to me that night, I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing. When I found out she was carrying you, I went into a tailspin. Shut up here, day and night. I tried to withdraw from alcohol, but I kept suffering from symptoms. It scared the people in Town; the Peacekeepers showed up one time. And then, I realized: you were my one chance to leave a legacy that actually _meant_ something! Through you, I could carry on the Abernathy line - and those pompous retards like Snow would never be the wiser! If the Capitol knew I had fathered a child, they would have used you against me, to get to me! You would have been Reaped for the arena, guaranteed - children of Victors are very popular for that. And I was NOT about to let that happen. Even if I was willing to give up everything else - my health, my humanity, my last shred of dignity - I could _never_ give up..... my daughter." 

He turns away, resting his hands on the kitchen table, staring into the wood. "I'm a murderer, Katniss. There are things I've done in my life that I'm not proud of, that I will never live down. 47 other children _died_ \- some of them I _killed_ \- so that I could live. Is that really a destiny, a legacy, I can hang my hat on? But that boy that went into the arena is gone - and this old drunken man is all that's left."

I stay silent throughout his entire monologue. Throughout it all, my heart melts. To think of what this man went through..... to think that, in never claiming me as his own, he was actually protecting me, even showing his love for me the only way he could..... My eyes fill with tears, and I smile. _Say it_ , I tell myself. _Say it, Katniss_. 

"You're more than just an old drunk. You're not just a Victor. You're a legend. And..... you're my father. And I'm proud to be your daughter." 

Haymitch turns to me, shocked by my words. I burst into tears at last, and fling myself into his arms. "Daddy!" 

Haymitch stands stock still for a moment, before finally putting his arms around me and returning my hug. I rest my head against his chest - still remarkably strong and muscular despite his years of bodily abuse from drinking. Haymitch - no, _Daddy_ \- rests his chin on the top of my head, stoically looking into the distance beyond. My wracking sobs soon turn into sighs of peace as I relax in his embrace. 

"I've..... I've always wanted to hold you like this," Daddy confesses. "When you were small and you would come into the Hob with your..... with Estes, I just wanted to hug you! But I knew it was not my place." 

"Did you.... did you know..... Estes?" I whimper. 

"I knew both your parents. The Hawthornes and Mr. Mellark, too. Your mom was one of the nicest girls I've ever met; she always made the effort to talk to me. I was a bit of a lone wolf, even before the Games; didn't have too many real friends." 

Another thought occurs to me. He lost his mom and brother after he won? That would make them my paternal grandmother and uncle.

I sniffle. "Do I..... Do I look like anyone in your family?"

Daddy draws back so he can look me full in the face. "You're built like your Grandma Abernathy a little bit. Her arms were thin, like yours. The shape of your forehead is a lot like your Uncle Gregory's; my brother." he points to a picture frame on the wall. "That's him, right there."

I behold a picture of two boys: dark brown hair, Seam grey eyes for both. It must have been taken just before Haymitch was reaped for the arena, for I recognize the stocky youth that is featured in the rare re-airing of the Second Quarter Quell. My Uncle Gregory looks to be about twelve, which would make their age difference the same as mine and Prim's.

"You look beautiful." Haymitch nods as I turn back around to face him. "You marrying that Peacekeeper boy today?"

I nod. "I'm pregnant. With his baby."

He whistles heavily. "Not exactly pleased with how that turned out. I know about the affair," he adds before I can explain. "If it had been up to me, I would have raised you better than that, and that's all I'm saying! Just my two cents, but you had it real good with Peeta; I've only wanted the best man for you."

I gasp as another memory surfaces in my consciousness. "Is that why you bid on me at the Hundred Days Union and then let Peeta.....?"

He snorts. "Duh, sweetheart. Wasn't about to let that Drury motherfucker bed my daughter - _my daughter_!" he growls protectively, and it warms my heart. "Besides, I consider it a miracle that Peeta invited me to your toasting. Never thought I would see my own daughter getting married."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I seize on the perfect segway. "I know you're not happy about how it is coming about, but...... would you walk your own daughter down the aisle?"

Haymitch wipes his nose noisily on his sleeve. Tears cling to his scruffy beard. He clears his throat. "Ya hear that, Duke, old buddy? I'm giving my daughter away today!"

I follow his gaze over to another picture on the wall - that of a middle-aged man in a warrior stance, with a sword in his hand. Duke Vedaldi - the mentor who helped to save my father, his apprentice, from death. Victor of the 13th Hunger Games. 

"Wait," and Haymitch is suddenly nervous. "What if people.....?"

I smile gently and take his hand. "They know that you and I worked together to free Peeta from jail. Everyone will think you're an old friend of the family, doing a favor." I leave the part out about how all the Mellarks know of my true parentage. None of them will tell, and Steffan will make damn sure Paula won't. "Nobody has to know."

Haymitch nods. "All right, sweetheart. I gotta go change. Let's get you married! BUT -" and he wags a finger at me as he turns back. "If that Darius punk ever hurts you, so help me God I will kill him! I've killed before; I can kill again if it protects my baby girl!"

I smile, my eyes threatening to turn into a waterworks all over again. "Sure, Daddy."

* * *

The wedding ceremony is beautiful.

I am floored that my mother and Prim are even there, not to mention all my former in-laws. There is Simit and his twin sisters, Iris and Amaryllis, squirming in the pew. But the true shocker is seeing my ex-husband there, calming our children. What's more, Peeta stays through the entire thing, even through when Darius and I are declared husband and wife and kiss. 

Nobody seems bothered that Haymitch is the one to give me away. I could see the knowing looks in the Mellarks' eyes, but they keep the secret to themselves. In fact, my biological father proves to be quite the entertainment at the toasting and reception, telling stories of his youth - before the Games, before the arena. He looks the happiest I have seen him in years. 

"Having a great time, sweetheart!" he chuckles when I pass by. 

I whisper in his ear. "Just wait until you get to play with all your grandbabies!"

I look around for my sister, but I can't find her; Leven informs me that she and her boyfriend Rory Hawthorne took my kids home to the bakery for the night. I smile to myself. The two of them will be great parents themselves one day..... 

From across the room, I can see my..... _ex_ -husband slipping towards the door to leave. I race after him.

"Wait!"

He turns around, surprised. "Katniss."

I want to hug him, but pull up short. Instead, I say, "Thank You. For staying for this."

Peeta just nods. "You would have done the same for me."

"But I would never have needed to," I express. "You would never have betrayed me - _never_!" I begin to cry. "Peeta, I'm.... I'm so sorry I put you through all this! I..... I will work for your forgiveness, even if it takes the rest of my life....."

Peeta cups his face in my hands, brushing my tears away with his thumb. "Ssssssshhhhhhhh....... and you will get that forgiveness someday. For now...... you have my blessing. And I have ten years of marriage and memories, three beautiful children by you. And we're still friends. Let's part as that."

Before I can stop myself, I kiss his lips. He does not refuse me. For us, this is a kiss goodbye. This kiss is the last gift I can leave him with. We break apart gently. Peeta's smile tells me he understands all the thoughts I could otherwise not express.

"Goodbye," he murmurs. He turns to leave. 

"Peeta!"

He turns. I smile softly. I whisper, "I love you."

He nods. "I know." 


End file.
